One Last Game, One Last Cup
by Em Dixon
Summary: Iroh returns to the Fire Nation, an old man. Pai sho and tea with his nephews was one of life's greatest pleasures, and it would be nice to have one more game. One-shot. Complete.


Zuko looked at the pai sho board that stood between them, examining the moves open to him. He'd gotten good enough that they'd been playing this game for nearly a week. He suspected that his uncle wasn't really trying to win; this time, it was more about the conversation and the company. Frowning, Zuko looked up to see his uncle reclined against the window, his hands folded over his stomach. Iroh took in a deep, raspy breath as the setting sun coated him in hues of red and gold. It was a Fire Nation sunset if ever there was one. A fitting one for the great Dragon of the West.

Only Iroh hadn't been so great lately. A month ago, he'd returned to the Fire Nation permanently to spend more time with his family, he said. The realization hit Zuko almost immediately, like a sixth sense. He knew the reason his uncle had returned, and it showed in the way he'd noticeably slowed down. He preferred to sit and watch rather than join in on bending practice. He was quiet at dinner, looking around fondly at the bustling dining room.

By far, the thing that scared Zuko the most was that Jun was being so openly affectionate with him. Though it'd been clear that the bounty hunter cared for Iroh deeply, she'd never truly been one to show it. When they'd shown up at the Fire Nation, unannounced, though… She'd told the others that it was because Iroh had made her soft in her old age, but there was no way she could hide the truth from Zuko.

"Nephew, are you going to make your move or will we still be playing this game a week from now?"

His heart hurt too much to think.

"Uncle…"

When Iroh smiled, it was still the same wonderful, beautiful, indulgent smile that Zuko had known since he was a boy. There weren't many distinct memories from when he was so young, but Zuko remembered being three and seeing those beautiful eyes for the first time. He remembered love. He remembered…

"Uncle…"

And he crumbled.

"Oh, Zuko."

And he was a child again. When Iroh hugged him, Zuko clung to his middle like his life depended on it. He could smell everything that was Iroh. Dried tea leaves and cinnamon, a slight earthy smell, and a thousand things that Zuko would never be able to name.

"You are not a young man, nephew. There is some grey in your hair as well."

"I still need you."

"Come."

Zuko followed his uncle to the bed, and they sat side by side, backs against the headboard. Iroh breathed deeply, and Zuko followed. Breathe in, breathe out. The pain in his heart lessened. But only a little.

"I was saving this for when you had your first grandchild." Iroh fished around inside his sleeve and pulled out a small pouch. "It is a special blend of tea. It is meant to be served chilled, but there's a very nice heat to it. I've been working on it for ten years, trying to get the mix just right."

Zuko turned just a little to see his uncle. He tried to smile. Iroh patted his cheek.

"I am so, very, _extremely_ proud of the man you've become, nephew."

In all the years since he'd had it, Iroh had never touched Zuko's scar, and now, he slowly, very tenderly ran his hands over Zuko's deepest wound.

"There are many things I wish I would have done differently through the years. But in the end, when I weigh my life, I am pleased with the way things balance out. Now, let's have us a rest, hm? We'll finish our game when we wake. A man needs his strength, Zuko."

Iroh leaned back against the sturdy wood and closed his eyes. Zuko watched the steady rise and fall of Iroh's chest before settling back and closing his eyes.

"I love you, Uncle. Thank you. For everything."

"I love you, too, son."

It took a while for Zuko to finally relax enough to go to sleep.

* * *

He'd only worn white once before in his life, at Azulon's funeral. And now… Zuko held the small pouch of tea in his hands, and just stared at it. He was supposed to do something. He just couldn't get his mind to work right. All he could do was look between the tiny pouch and their unfinished game of pai sho.

"You get him to the funeral, mom. I'll handle the nobles."

Vaguely, Zuko recognized that voice. Someone he was close to. A child? Yes. His child. His oldest son. Kurzu. And a soft feminine voice. Kurzu had called her mom. Kurzu's mother. Zuko was married. Katara. That pouch of tea. And that unfinished pai sho game. There were arms around him, but he could only feel a vague pressure.

"We have to go, now."

He was led away, and made to sit. They were outside. He could feel the sun. There were people. A lot of people. People were touching him, making sounds at him. He shook, and there were more arms around him. Someone was whispering to him, he couldn't comprehend the sounds, anymore. The sun was making him hazy. He wanted to get away, he wanted to be alone. So he stood, and he left. He didn't know if they followed him. It didn't really matter.

He sat alone in the gardens. He just sat…and existed.

* * *

"Dad?"

Zuko turned around and blinked at the young man standing behind him. The wind was getting very brisk, and Zuko only then became aware of the painful tingling in his hands and his face. Normally when they travelled to the South, he'd use his bending to warm himself. He'd been so far away, barely registering his changing surroundings.

"I don't want you to get your hopes up," Kurzu said, leaning on the railing next to him.

"When did you get so old?"

Kurzu smiled softly, a little lopsided half smile that could have been one of Zuko's own smiles. Kurzu put his arm around his father, and Zuko inhaled and slowly let out a long breath, forcing tension away from his muscles. Time had been passing by in a blur, and admittedly, Kurzu had been doing more of the ruling. And maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing to hand the reins over. No Fire Lord had ever retired before, but then Zuko had never been a typical Fire Lord.

"Hey, now don't get all broody on me, dad. Mom said the solstice was a magical time. It could work."

"It's not that. Just…where did the time go? I remember when you were just a baby, and I could hold you with one arm. Now you're as big as I am."

"And you've got grey in your hair, too."

"Thanks, son."

"And wrinkles."

"I get it."

Zuko playfully pushed at his son, feeling a smile tug at the corners of his mouth for the first time in months. A little more of the fog fell away. And there, on the horizon, looming ever larger, were the gates of the Southern Water Tribe. And behind those gates, the Spirit Oasis.

* * *

In the distance were the sounds of a great festival, and his family was no doubt celebrating with everyone else. There would be songs and dancing and drinks and food. They would remember loved ones and ask spirits for blessings, and then they would dance and drink and sing and eat some more.

Alone in the dimly lit secluded area, Zuko set up their pai sho board, carefully arranging the tiles. He'd stared at it so long that he knew exactly how each tile should be placed. Until he'd needed to pack it up to transport it to the South, in fact, it had remained in that room, in that position. Next to the pai sho board, Zuko set up a tea pot and filled it with water, bending a small fire to get it boiling. He pulled out two small cups, placing one on his side of the board and the other on the opposite side. These, too, he carefully rearranged until he was satisfied. From a pocket inside his coat he pulled that tiny pouch of tea. The intention was to brew it, but if he did then it would be gone forever.

With everything set up, there was nothing left to do but wait.

The sun descended and the moon began to rise.

The stars were beautiful, and Zuko watched them for a time, feeling incredibly small. He was asking a lot of the world.

When he got cold, he used his bending to warm himself.

The Southern Lights twisted and turned above him.

At some point, he drifted off into an uneasy light sleep.

"Nephew?"

Zuko's eyes snapped open, and he couldn't hold back the tears. Such a kind, wonderful face. He just smiled up at his uncle, unable to do much else.

"Well, you've gone through quite a bit of trouble."

Zuko nodded.

"I said we'd finish our game when I woke up."

Zuko smiled as Iroh regarded the pai sho board between them.

"I believe it's your move, nephew."

* * *

A/N: This is probably the hardest thing I've ever written, but the idea caught me and I couldn't let it go. I think the two of them share a really deep bond, and when Iroh shows up in the Fire Nation, Zuko would just _know_, and he would do everything to stay as close to Iroh as possible. I wish I could do a better job of explaining that feeling. I've only felt it once and I _never_ want to feel it again. One of the most beautiful things about the Avatar world is that death isn't the end. There is a chance that you could meet up again, and no one will ever convince me that there's a world where Zuko wouldn't try to meet up with Iroh. In happier news, I think it would be the cutest thing ever to have older Zuko and Iroh geeking out over pai sho and cups of tea.


End file.
